


Thrill of the Hunt

by miragoat



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Hunting, M/M, No shame, PWP, Sex, little fluffy at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 13:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7978699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miragoat/pseuds/miragoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genn Greymane and Varian Wrynn go hunting, and things take an interesting (read: sexual) turn.  PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrill of the Hunt

The morning air is crisp and clean as he breathes it in and out. He can smell everything, the freshly fallen leaves, the damp earth, traces of animals that have come and gone, all distinct to his enhanced senses. Warm morning light filters through the trees. It is still dark, but Genn does not need much light when he has sound and scent and _touch_. When he catches the scent of his prey, he runs further into the forest with all the speed his lupine legs can muster.

He catches the scent of another hunter, but he does not stop, because this is _his_ hunt and this will be _his_ prey, and nothing beats the thrill of catching a beast in his claws and howling into the wood to revere the balance that lets him hunt and kill. The adrenaline rushes through him, and Genn feels as if nothing in the world could go wrong. He sees it then: the wild boar. He lunges, but not before an arrow is fired toward the beast.

The boar is struck by the arrow and charges toward the one who shot it, but Genn is fast. He lunges and sinks his claws into the beast. It rears, ready to puncture his skin with its horns, but the hunter fires another arrow, and soon the animal is dead. So it goes.

Genn throws his head back and howls. It feels _right_ to do when he’s in this form, even if he looks like a beast to outsiders, even if his human form would find it undignified. The creature within him is and isn’t Genn. It’s wilder, fiercer. When he transitions back to a human, his broad chest is heaving, and his body is drenched in sweat.

Varian steps out of the brush and looks at him. Like Genn, Varian is a king, but he looks less than kingly now. His dark hair is plastered to his face with sweat, and his scars give him a rugged look. His pants aren’t the usual formal clothes that Genn is used to seeing, and he wears no shirt. This is the Varian that no one else sees, the Varian that comes out when the man can’t be King Varian Wrynn. Genn can sense the essence of Goldrinn in Varian. He belongs here in the forest as much as Genn.

He isn’t sure what drives him to do it. Maybe it’s the burst of energy that still courses through him, or maybe it’s seeing Varian like that, bow in hand, sharing the glory of his kill. He practically _leaps_ forward to grab Varian and slams them against a tree. His lips meet Varian’s forcefully and he grabs a fistful of Varian’s hair and pulls. There is so _much_ of Varian that he wants to touch as he feels the man’s muscular body pressed against his. His free hand rakes over Varian’s body. Something in him wants to claim Varian, to leave marks all over him until there’s no place he hasn’t been. He nips at Varian’s bottom lip just a little, not enough to risk spreading the curse but enough to cause the man to growl. Genn grins and bites along his jaw.

Varian’s hands grasp Genn’s ass so tight that he’s sure it will leave bruises. He can feel every part of Varian pressed against him, smell the traces of soap and sweat that he knows can only be Varian. It overwhelms him. He’s never felt such raw _want_ in all his life, like he could grind against Varian and be done here and now, but he wants to know what it might be like to be inside of him.

His hands travel to Varian’s pants and attempt to unlace them, but the double knot is too much for his wanting fingers. He fumbles with the laces, then mumbles a curse and rips them out, dignity be damned. Varian is so hard for him, and Genn feels pride knowing that he did this to him. He strokes Varian’s tip with his thumb and Varian makes a sound that is more animal then man. He isn’t inclined to serve, but he wraps his fist around Varian’s shaft a little tighter than he should and pumps. The way that Varian clutches him, harder now than before, tells him that he’s doing something right, that the young king wants this just as much as he does.

Genn uses his free hand to pull down his pants. The air is a shock against his skin, but he doesn’t find the feeling unpleasant. “Touch me,” he says to Varian.

Varian’s hands are rough against his skin in a way that Genn likes more than he wants to admit. The way they travel up his thigh, with no room for gentleness, makes him only want more, and Varian moves with confidence, like he’s done this before. Varian’s hand twists around him, and it’s almost enough to send him over the edge. Genn moans like a virgin girl. “Light, Varian, I want you now.” His hands travel to spread Varian wide, eager to ready him. His fingers find the sensitive hole and stroke it, but Varian shoves against his chest so hard that he stumbles back and trips to the ground.

Varian looks down at him with disgust, similar to the way he looked at him before he was used to his worgen form. Like he is something not worth his time. Like he thinks himself better. “I submit to no one.”

Genn growls. “I’m older than you. I lead the kingdom of Gilneas.”

“I am the king of Stormwind, leader of the Alliance and _you will do what I tell you to do_.”

Genn is ashamed. He is a proud man. His father told him never to relinquish control to another, and he is the leader of the worgen. His pack does not challenge his command, yet here is Varian, young enough to be his son, ordering him to stand down. Maybe it’s the beast inside of him submitting to Goldrinn as an inferior, or maybe it’s the sight of Varian’s hard cock above him, but Genn gives a weak nod and lowers himself to his hands and knees.

Varian kneels beside him and teases Genn’s hole with a finger with surprising gentleness. It isn’t really _gentle –_ Genn doubts that a man like Varian knows how to be gentle – but it’s careful, as if Varian understands what it must mean for Genn to be in such a position. It’s not sentimental, not exactly, but it’s reverent all the same. Slowly, too slowly for Genn’s liking, Varian pushes his finger inside of Genn. He realizes he’s been holding his breath and lets himself breathe.

The finger explores him and Genn feels at ease when he realizes how _good_ it feels to have Varian touch him even a little. He closes his eyes and savors it. When Varian senses that Genn is used to it, he adds another finger. His pushes become faster, deeper, and Genn wants the real thing even if it hurts him. His breathing is ragged. Varian moves closer to him, and he can feel the man’s eyes watching him. It turns him on even more.

“I’m ready, Varian,” he breathes.

Discomfort mingles with pleasure as Varian slides into him. Genn reminds himself to relax, that everything will be so much better if he relaxes. The fit is so tight and Varian fills him with his length. He makes a few experimental thrusts, gaging Genn’s comfort level, before he grips the man’s stomach and thrusts into him with all of the speed and vigor he’s been holding onto.

Varian’s hands on his stomach hold him in place as Varian fucks him. He’s had things inside of him before, but there was never anyone who he felt was worth submitting to. Now he knows that Varian was worth the wait. The feel of calloused hands on his stomach and Varian filling him are more than he could have hoped for, and he relishes in all of it. His hands dig into damp soil as he moans.

“I keep thinking about it, the way you insist on howling after you make a kill. Let’s see how you howl for me, Greymane.”

Varian’s pace is faster now, so fast that Genn is sure that he’s on the edge. He cries out again and again. “Light, Varian, don’t stop...”

Varian’s fingers find his length and stroke him roughly. Varian is all around him, and he loses himself in the feel of it. He comes with a shout that he’s sure can be heard from Orgrimmar. Varian comes in him soon after.

Genn lays on his side on the forest floor, Varian beside him. He looks at Varian. Even sweat-soaked and panting, the man manages to look dignified, the way a king should look. Genn wants to do something bold, to kiss Varian and tell him how amazing he was and how he’s waited for a day like this, but he can’t because it’s not his place. Varian is High King, and this is just a romp in the forest after a hunt, not a relationship. Genn is old enough to be Varian’s father. He couldn’t…

Varian wrapped an arm around Genn. The gesture is sweet somehow even if there is no gravity to it. “You’re mine now, Greymane.”

“Yours,” he repeats. He doesn’t want the moment to end, but there is a pig to clean, and they’re expected back in Stormwind. Still, he has some hope, hope that only builds when Varian smacks him on the ass and gives him a mischievious smile.

Well, it wasn’t like he had his _own_ land to run off to...

 


End file.
